


Momentum of Desire Pt 3 (Reader POV)

by SaenaLife



Series: Momentum of Desire [3]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Dirty Talk, Dom/sub, F/M, Hair-pulling, Hand on Throat (not choking), Oral Sex, Oral sex (both receiving), Orgasm Delay, Reader-Insert, Vaginal Sex, a little bit of a lot of kinks, dom!Dean, first time sub, gentle!Dom, praise!kink, reader is called "little girl"
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-11
Updated: 2016-02-11
Packaged: 2018-05-19 16:30:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,154
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5974117
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SaenaLife/pseuds/SaenaLife
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You met the most amazing guy in the bar tonight. In fact, he was so amazing, he just got you off without even taking off your clothes. You can't wait to find out how much better it gets when the two of you are behind closed doors.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Momentum of Desire Pt 3 (Reader POV)

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own the character of Dean Winchester or anything in the Supernatural canon. Everything else is mine.

A/N: This is a continuation of the Reader POV fic [Momentum of Desire](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4665258). It might be a good idea to read that one first, this one jumps right into the action.

 

 

***********

“That's my building.”

As the words left your mouth, a giddy glee bubbled up through your chest at the look on Dean's face, equal parts delight and hunger. His fingers tightened on your arms and lingered as he stepped back, nodding his head toward the street with a grin.

“Lead the way, sweetheart!”

Your body ached at the loss of him, crying out for the return of his heat and pressure. For a fleeting moment, you considered having him unlock the car behind you and taking advantage of that spacious back seat. With the last crumb of your rationality, you decided that the warmth, privacy, and bed upstairs trumped – but just barely – the overwhelming urge of _need his cock now_.

With a grin that matched his, you gripped his hand tight, pulling him out of the shadows and heading for the entrance to the alley on legs that still trembled with the aftermath of his earlier attentions. Hating the thought of waiting one second more than necessary to have him to yourself, you quick-stepped out to the sidewalk, turning toward the entrance of your building. The familiar half-block suddenly looked like a ridiculous distance to have to cross and your steps unconsciously sped up. Halfway there, you realized that you had increased to a swift trot, nearly dragging Dean along behind you. Although you had no intention of slowing down, you had to laugh at yourself and glanced over your shoulder to see how he was taking it.

The half-smile on his face did nothing to dim the lust in his eyes and it sparked a playfulness in you that you'd never realized was there. _In for a penny, in for a pound_ , you thought to yourself, deciding in the instant to go with your impulse. You smothered your laugh behind a wide smile, a challenge in your eyes as you slid your hand from his, and turned to run hell-bent-for-leather toward your front door, hearing his deep chuckle trail after you.

Before you had time to hope Dean would play along, you heard his footsteps thudding behind you, faster than you'd expected, and you redoubled your efforts, expending much needed oxygen on the laughter that broke free. Luckily, you had a head start and the door wasn't all that far away, otherwise he'd easily have caught up with you. As it was, he was right on your heels as you pushed through the door and had his hand on your arm before you'd gotten halfway across the small lobby.

With unexpected grace, he managed to turn you to face him, bearing you backward toward the elevator door without slowing down at all, yet managing to cushion your impact so that all you felt was the smooth press of his body against yours, pinning you to the unyielding surface at your back. Then Dean's mouth was on yours again, eclipsing every other thought and sensation, until the familiar sound of the elevator chiming as it reached the lobby pulled you back to reality.

Straightening as the door began to open, you took his hands in yours, drawing him forward with you into the small space before pushing number 17. Dean's eyes drifted from the panel of buttons to meet your eyes and his mouth quirked into a small smile. “Man, I hope this thing's either really fast or really slow!”

“Oh, it's slo-o-ow.” You drawled your answer as you slipped your arms around his waist, hauling him against you.

“I can work with that.”

Entranced by the way his plush lips curved around the words and the promise they held, you raised your mouth to his in an invitation he wasted no time in accepting. A few heated moments later, you felt him slide one hand into the hair at the back of your head as his lips left yours. He pulled lightly, tilting your head back to expose your throat to him, and pleasure poured over your skin, a warm tide from the roots of your hair over your neck and shoulders, shivering down your spine. You trembled in his arms and a wide, uncontrollable smile stole across your face.

“Somethin' funny?” The deep rumble of his voice only increased the flush of heat through your veins and you had to force yourself to focus on his words.

“What? No, not funny.” You glanced up at him through your lashes, a little embarrassed. “It's just that... when you pulled my hair just now, it felt so _good_.”

“You mean, when I did this?” As he spoke, Dean pulled again, gently, watching as the feeling flowed over you.

“Yeah, like that...” you murmured, eyes sliding shut as you melted against him. You knew that damn smile was back, but you didn't care; it felt too good to care.

“No one ever pulled your hair before?” Before you could collect yourself enough to answer, he resettled his hand, gathering a larger section and tugging more firmly than before, effectively short-circuiting your brain.

You wanted to answer him, wanted to give him what he asked for, and so you tried to sidestep the pleasure, frowning as you struggled to hold it back enough to speak coherently, unaware that you were still smiling. With a massive effort, you opened your eyes to stare up at him.

“Yeah, a couple of times.” A fragment of memory flashed, of a college boyfriend who had tried to pull your hair and woefully misunderstood the level of force needed. There was no comparison to the effect Dean had on you and you found yourself greedy for more. “But it never felt that good before.” Hardly realizing it, you swayed into him, tipping your head back a little into his hand.

Answering your unspoken request, Dean pulled, slow and steady, drawing your head back and your chin up. He didn't stop, though, continuing without pause until you were bent back over his other arm, your breasts pushed up and out toward him and the line of your neck stretching away in a graceful curve. Then he just stopped, holding you there silently, and your hands tightened into the fabric of his shirt when you thought about his eyes devouring you while you stood helpless in his arms. You held out as long as you could, but finally, with a shudder, you gave in, whimpering a broken “Please!” into the quiet.

He inhaled sharply and then you felt the hot press of his mouth on the vulnerable skin below your ear. It was just that, though, one soft moment of contact before he pulled back a little, mouth hovering over your pulse point. The rush of his breath over your nerve endings stopped your own breath, lungs and everything else motionless and waiting – all except your heart pounding in your ears.

Every molecule, every atom of your existence was focused on that small patch of skin under his mouth, straining to wait patiently for whatever Dean chose to do to you. The slight scrape of his teeth as they finally closed on your neck, firm but not sharp, sent an uncontrollable jolt of pleasure through your muscles, every part of you tightening and drawing up closer to him, wrenching his name from your lips in a loud cry.

“Dean!”

With a low sound that might have been a growl, he began to nip and kiss over your jaw, down your neck to your collarbone, teasing you with his teeth and tongue, humming with approval whenever he chanced on a spot that made you gasp and clutch at him. You gave yourself over to him, unable to do more than react to the streaks of bliss he laid over your skin. He pushed the neckline of your sweater down to bare your shoulder to his mouth, shifting back a little to lean down and without his bulk pressing you to the elevator wall, your legs threatened to give way.

Catching yourself, you laughed a little in wonder at the very literal weakness in your knees, and were surprised when Dean's hold on you tightened fiercely as he continued his journey to your shoulder. The chime of the elevator made him hesitate almost imperceptibly before his lips made contact with your skin once more.

The door slid open and, with his mouth on you, you couldn't have cared less if it closed again with you two still inside, but at the last second, Dean's hand shot out to catch it. Body still crushed to yours, he raised his head to look you in the eye for a moment before gently nudging your nose with his own, kissing you sweet and deep and then standing back to let you go.

“Seems like I'm always pushin' you up against something or other.”

There was laughter in his voice and you smiled up at him as you straightened from the wall. “I noticed. In fact,” you said as you began to move toward the door, “... it's my favorite thing about you.” Passing him, you dropped one hand to his ass, squeezing it firmly. “So far, anyway.” You stepped out of the elevator, marveling at your sudden, unusual boldness. Something about Dean brought out new confidence in you and you were enjoying the hell out of it.

Still a little shaky with unresolved arousal, you headed for your door just down the hall, digging through your purse for the key with hands that trembled. You were just congratulating yourself on locating it with a minimum of fumbling and were about to unlock the door when Dean stepped up behind you, sliding one hand under the hem of your sweater to land hot, heavy, and low on your belly, pulling you back against him just before his lips settled onto the curve of your neck.

You missed the lock by a mile.

Sighing, you leaned back against him, key clutched forgotten in your hand.

“So you want me to push you up against this door, too?” His words tickled your ear, sending a shiver through you.

With a massive mental effort, you straightened as best you could, given that the hand holding you against the bulge in his jeans had yet to loosen its grip.

“Yes, yes I do, but let's wait until we get on the other side of it.”

“Well then, sweetheart, you better get that door unlocked, or else your neighbors are likely to see a show.” As he spoke, Dean's hand began to slide downward, edging by degrees toward the seam of your jeans.

Knowing you had to move fast before you lost yourself to his touch, you held your breath, trying to ignore him as you faced the door. You managed to get the deadbolt open on the first try, but then his questing fingers slowly pressed down, sliding between your thighs. A quiet, strangled whimper escaped you, and it took every ounce of willpower you had to keep from surrendering then and there. Biting hard on your lip, you let the slight sting clear the haze just enough to aim for the keyhole on the door handle.

You managed to get it open on the second attempt. “Thank fucking _god_!” you muttered, shoving the door open and shifting out of his arms to step into the apartment, with Dean something less than half a step behind you.

True to his word, Dean moved in, crowding you against the door that now stood closed against the outside world. This time, though, there was no rush, no mad scramble for more contact. His movements were slow and deliberate, but that did nothing to diminish the passion in his eyes or the effect his touch had on your pulse when his hands landed on your hips, gripping tight as he leaned in.

His mouth on yours was just as deliberate, the compelling pressure of his lips systematically dismantling your higher brain functions. You came back to yourself a little when he pulled away, his gaze roaming over your face. It reminded you of the look he'd given you when he had you up against the door of his car, which in turn reminded you of something else.

“Dean?” Your voice came out a breathy whisper and you cleared your throat, trying to speak clearly through the fog of arousal and the nervous shyness that made you consider not asking. “Would you... ah... would you put your hand on my throat like you did in the alley?”

“Shit, Y/N, I'll do anything you want when you ask me like that.” Dean's voice was amused, but husky and his eyes were intense as he raised one hand, slipping it around your neck so that the palm covered the front of your throat and strong fingers pressed lightly under your jawline. You sighed, closing your eyes and taking in a deep shuddery breath, feeling the weight of his hand over your pulse.

Watching your reaction, Dean groaned, fingers tightening slightly. “Y/N, you ever do any dom-sub scenes?”

You had to drag yourself back from the sensations flooding your system, forcing your brain to interpret what he was saying. “Hmm, no... read about subbing, but never had the chance to try it.”

His hand slid from your throat, down to rest on your shoulder, before he asked in a low voice, “Wanna try it now?” Though his pupils were still blown with lust, his expression was open and neutral, waiting for whatever your answer turned out to be.

Your pulse jumped at the idea, but still you hesitated. Asking for his hand on your throat was a baby step compared to this; this would take a whole new level of courage. Remembering that you'd thought he looked dangerous in the bar, you debated your answer and realized with some surprise that you trusted him completely. You had, really, since that moment in the alley when he had so obviously been willing to let you call it all off with no hard feelings.

Swallowing hard, you found your voice. “Please.” You watched in fascination as he closed his eyes, jaw clenched. His hips pushed into you with a small motion that he didn't seem to be aware of.

“Ok, that'll be the first thing.” His voice was gruff. “I don't want you to say please just because you know what it does to me. From now on, the only time I wanna hear you say it is when you _absolutely_ mean it. I'll be able to tell, trust me.”

You nodded, heart thudding in your chest at the reality of your most secret fantasy coming true. “I understand.”

He brushed the hair from your eyes, fingers trailing through the strands behind your ear, thumb sweeping over your cheekbone as he smiled down at you. “Good girl.”

The breath stopped in your lungs and your eyes dropped shut as a slow shiver swept over your skin. The force of the arousal that flared at his words was stunning, magnified somehow by your nervousness, spiraling higher until you were trembling in his arms.

“Hey, look at me.” Obeying him, you found yourself reassured by the kindness that shared equal place with lust in his eyes. “Since this is your first go-round, and we don't really know each other, I'm gonna keep it real simple and easy, nothin' too complicated, nothin' scary.”

“Okay.” With a deep, slow breath, you relaxed a little under his soothing touch, nodding for him to continue when he raised an eyebrow in question.

“Alright then, you get to choose what you call me – Dean or sir – but whichever one it is, I want you to use it when you talk to me. Understand?”

“Yes, Dean.”

“And I think I'll call you... little girl.” He paused, assessing your reaction. “Would you like that?”

The arousal was back to full force, but didn't feel nearly as out of control as it had a few moments earlier. “Yes, Dean.”

“Good. Now, I'm in charge; I decide what happens and when. That includes when and how many times you get to come.” He paused, absently running one thumb over your lower lip. “That's an important one, little girl, remember you don't get to come until _I_ say. Doesn't mean I don't wanna know how you're feeling, though. In fact, the more I hear, the better I like it. You know about traffic lights?”  
You nodded. “Yes, Dean. Red for stop, yellow for slow down, green for go.”

He smiled in approval and you felt heat expand in your chest at the sight. “You're such a good little girl for me already.” A soft, needy sound rose in the back of your throat, followed by another when Dean took his lower lip between his teeth as his eyes traced your features. “Soon, little girl, I promise I'm gonna take good care of you. There's just one more thing I want you to remember. You're trustin' me here, but I'm trustin' you, too. I'll be looking out for you, and checking in if I think it might be too much, but I gotta know that you'll damn well use those traffic lights if you need to. You gonna do that?”

“Yes, Dean.”

“You promise?”

“I promise, Dean.”

“Good girl. I think that's plenty to begin with. Now...” He dropped his arms and began to pull away, his face becoming just a little distant. “... let's get started.” His large hands pressed your shoulders to the door when you tried to follow him as he stepped back. When his body left yours, you stifled the instinct to whine in protest, determined to show complete obedience.

He stood, less than an arm's length away, eyes roaming over your body while he shed the leather jacket and tossed it carelessly to the floor. You seized the moment to look him over, too; this was your first chance to really _look_ and he took your breath away. The promise of those tantalizing glimpses at the bar was more than fulfilled when he shrugged out of his flannel, exposing a tight black AC/DC tee stretched over a broad chest, and faded just-tight-enough jeans slung low on his narrow hips, hugging his muscular thighs.

Time seemed to stand still as you looked at each other. For the first time, it dawned on you how difficult it was going to be to hold yourself back and wait for his commands. Your fingers itched to push that shirt up and explore his skin; your mouth watered at the thought of tasting any part of him; your nipples tightened with the need to press into his touch.

Still, he didn't speak. He just stood there drinking in every detail, eyes lingering on your heaving breasts, dropping to where your thighs pressed together in hopeless search for friction. It might have only been for a few seconds, but it felt like an eternity and soon your fingertips were pressed hard into the painted wood at your back, bottom lip clamped in your teeth as you fought the urge to reach for him. It wasn't until your awareness had narrowed down to the hot, slick throbbing between your legs and the hungry emerald gaze that held you enthralled that he finally spoke.

“Clothes. Off. Now.”

With a quick nod, you began to comply, mouth too dry to form even the barest two word response. You tried to be graceful about it, but he still hadn't moved back at all and parts of you kept brushing up against him, hampering your movements. More than that, the grazing touches of his motionless body and the impassive set to his features as he watched you were winding you tighter than you thought you'd ever been.

After what felt like an eternity of fumbling to rid yourself of your sneakers and jeans, peeling your panties off too, you grabbed the hem of your sweater with crossed arms and lifted it over your head, unable to stop the moan that escaped you when the motion pressed your lace-covered breasts into his chest. Never one to waste an opportunity, you arched your back maybe a little more than necessary when you reached back to unfasten your bra, savoring the momentary heat and friction of him on your nipples.

“Little girl...” There was the slightest hint of a warning in Dean's voice. “... don't dawdle now.”

You jumped a little and your eyes flew to meet his indulgently serious gaze. The look you sent back was contrite and you felt a moment's honest regret at trying to sneak pleasure for yourself when you'd agreed that it was his to give. Without further delay, you slid the bra down, dropping it unheeded to the floor.

“Good. Now raise your arms for me, little girl, up over your head.”

“Yes, Dean.” Proud that your voice only shook a little, you lifted your arms, crossing your wrists against the door above your head, hands clenched tight with the tension running through you.

When he stepped close enough that you felt the brush of cotton against your sensitized skin, every part of you tensed and tightened in anticipation, while at the same time, you felt your whole being soften hungrily and open to this man. The first touch of his calloused hands on the naked flesh of your waist sparked a chain reaction that swept scorching pleasure from cell to cell over every millimeter of your skin before the heat settled just behind your pubic bone, a dull throb that only emphasized the space inside you that ached to be filled.

He leaned in, capturing your lips, meeting your frantic tongue with his own. With your arms over your head and his hands holding you firmly against the door, you were forced to channel all of your desperate, aching _hunger_ for him through your kisses, nipping his full lips, sucking at his tongue, struggling to keep your hands where they were instead of driving them into his hair to drag him closer the way your body was shouting at you to do. Adrenalin was singing in your veins and your heart was racing, the beat of it felt strongest in those places that most craved his touch. The constantly increasing thrum of arousal in your body abruptly intensified and you feared you might lose control entirely, as if you might fly out of your skin at any moment.

It was like Dean knew; suddenly he had one hand resting at the base of your throat, slowly moving up as he kissed you, settling with careful weight on your neck. That point of contact seemed to anchor you, holding you steady against the whirlwind of sensation so that you could let go, all thoughts of fear and control carried away like so much aluminum lawn furniture in a gale force wind.

His mouth left yours, sending hot breath over your ear and trailing a tongue down your neck, nipping at your collarbone. The hand at your waist moved up to caress one breast, lightly pinching and squeezing, and you moaned loudly, arching away from the door until his hips pressed against yours, immobilizing you. He glanced down.

“Little girl, you look so good, I just gotta have a taste.” With that, he began to work his way down your body, pausing to lavish attention here and there with his mouth, warm hands moving over your skin with firm caresses, but always some part of his body holding you against the door.

Gliding to his knees in front of you, Dean dragged both hands firmly down the outside of your thighs as he descended, forestalling the instinctive drive to open your legs to him. Instead, he grasped your knees tightly, pressing them together.

“If those hands fall below your shoulders or your knees open, it all stops. Got it?”

You nodded.

“Speak up, little girl.”

“Yes, Dean, whatever you say.”

“Good girl.” His hands slipped up the backs of your legs and over your ass, rubbing and squeezing as he went, before curving over the tops of your hipbones and sliding his thumbs into the crease of your thighs. You held your breath, afraid that you would lose control and beg him to really touch you. His thumbs pressed to either side of your pussy, rolling the flesh of your mound up to expose your throbbing, sensitive clit. You whimpered, stifling the urge to open your legs to the heat of his mouth.

He could sense it. “Keep those knees closed.”

“Yes, Dean.”

“And don't come unless I say.”

Voice strangled with arousal, you answered. “No, Dean, I wo...”

His tongue was on you, warm and wet, before you could finish the sentence, your reply ending with a choked off gasp as you fought to hold back the orgasm that loomed. Mercifully, he didn't move for a few seconds, giving you the chance to brace yourself. It was the only thing that prevented you from catapulting over the edge when he did begin to make slow, torturous circles over your clit, his tongue relaxed but firm.

The feel of him was fantastic, mind-boggling, but it wasn't enough to make you come. Your noises grew louder and louder as, with your knees still clamped together, you thrust your pelvis against his mouth, mindlessly trying to get more stimulation than your position allowed. Somewhere, in the back of your awareness, you thought you might be begging him to give you more, but you were already too far gone to pay attention. He pulled away and you thought you might cry in frustration, looking down at him with pleading eyes, hips twisting restlessly.

“You're doing so good, little girl! So obedient and sweet, maybe I should reward you and let you come.”

An incoherent sound of longing slipped from you and he chuckled.

“You want that, huh? Alright, then, here we go, keep those legs closed and you can go ahead and let loose on this one.”

He returned to your clit, and this time it was just that little bit more that you needed, slowly building, dragging you higher, until he had you poised on the precipice, helpless to do anything but wait for whatever he gave you. It seemed an eternity that he held you there, but then with one extra push and swirl of his tongue, he sent you flying.

Immense pleasure radiated through you, electric currents of bliss that locked your muscles in ecstasy, blinding you to the fact that he had taken his mouth from your core immediately after triggering your orgasm. With no further stimulation, the euphoria faded quickly and you came back to yourself to find he once again had you pressed to the door, your body straining against his, seeking more, nearly maddened by the feel of his hard cock against your hip. The abbreviated climax had taken the edge from your frustration, but had increased your need for him ten-fold.

He ran soothing hands down your arms, lightly kissing your face and praising you until you had quieted somewhat. His voice rumbled in your ear. “God, little girl, you taste so good! And the sounds you made were so fuckin' hot, I Just wanted to push your legs open and fuck you with my tongue, see if I could make you scream even louder. But then I remembered, I get to play with you all I want. So if I wanna slide my cock into that slick pussy of yours right now, I can do it. Can't I, little girl?”

“Yes, Dean.” You desperately hoped that he would.

Abruptly, he stepped back and a shiver ran over your skin at the loss of his considerable body heat. Before you could even send him a questioning glance, he spoke.

“Go into the bedroom.”

“Yes, Dean.” Moving past him on shaking legs, and feeling his eyes on you like a physical touch, you led the way to your room, going directly to the bedside to turn on the lamp there. Moving to the foot of your bed, you clasped your hands in front of you and watched him stride into the room. A vague thought wandered half-formed through the back of your mind, something about how letting Dean make all the decisions seemed to be getting easier all the time. Then he stepped up close and your brain emptied of everything but him. He waited for your eyes to meet his before he gave his next command.

“Undress me.”

Your heart and your hands leapt to the task, only to falter a little when he continued.

“Not so fast, little girl. Take your time and be careful, because I have one rule here. I want you to get me completely naked without touching my skin at all, and I mean _at all_. Think you can do that for me?”

“Yes, Dean.” You set to work, grasping at the hem of his shirt and drawing it up, grateful when he bent at the waist so that you could tug it over his head. He straightened up, hair mussed and eyes dancing a little, and it was all you could do not to drag his mouth to yours for a kiss. You hastily dropped your eyes and immediately realized your mistake when you took in the breadth of his muscular chest, the expanse of smooth winter-pale skin scattered with freckles that demanded to be kissed. You had thought obeying was getting easier...

Swallowing hard, you continued, easing his belt buckle open, carefully popping the button on his jeans and tugging everything down with handfuls of cloth, meticulously avoiding the forbidden contact. All the while, the urge to run your hands and mouth over every inch of skin that was revealed grew steadily. Knowing how difficult it would be to resist the sight of his cock, you left the boxer briefs for last. Hands shaking, you carefully pulled the waistband up and over the flushed and leaky head before dragging the black cotton down so that he could step clear. Tossing them aside, you looked up at him from where you knelt at his feet and thought that the sight just might be the thing that broke you.

“Please.” You hadn't intended to speak, but the drive to touch him was becoming unbearable and the word slipped out unbidden. Remembering his rule about saying please, your hands clenched into your thighs as you waited, hoping he could see how much you meant it.

When he spoke, Dean's voice was strained and low. “Please what, little girl?”

“Please, Dean, please let me suck your cock! I want to taste you!”

“How can I say no to such pretty begging coming from such a pretty mouth?' He brushed the hair back from your face, adding just the slightest tug and grinning a little when your breath caught. “Alright, little girl, you go ahead and put that pretty mouth to use, but only your mouth. No hands.”

“I understand, Dean, thank you.”

Knowing that the urge to touch him would be nearly impossible to resist, you clasped your hands behind your back before leaning in to nuzzle against his thigh, taking in the scent of his warm flesh, sending a breath over the sensitive skin of his cock. Nosing in underneath, you dragged your tongue in a wide, wet stripe over and around each of his balls before pressing open mouthed kisses up and down the shaft, loving the sight and shape and feel of him. When you finally opened your mouth over the head, swirling your tongue to gather the salty traces there before sucking lightly, the wrecked sound he made deep in his throat sent a thrill jolting through your system, utter delight at having managed to affect him in some small degree the way he affected you. Chasing a repeat of that sound, you soon lost yourself to the weight and texture of him in your mouth, your eyes closed in rapturous contentment as you took him in as far as you could, holding back your gag reflex in a quest to please Dean as much as possible.

In this single-minded pursuit, your own arousal faded somewhat from your awareness, until Dean pushed both hands into your hair, gripping tightly without trying to direct your motion. You moaned around his cock, sucking harder and more rhythmically, instinctively setting a pace designed to get him off.

For a moment, you didn't understand when he kept hold of your hair and pulled back from your mouth, the both of you panting heavily. You looked up at him in confusion.

“Dean?”

He smiled as he bent to take your hands from behind your back. “It's alright.” Lifting you to your feet, he pulled you against him and the sudden feel of so much skin, at-long- _fucking_ -last, staggered you so that at first it was hard to focus on his next words.

“Fuck, little girl, your mouth is incredible! If I let you go any more, I'd have to wait to feel your cunt squeezing down on my cock when you come.” His hand snaked over your belly, sliding down to slip a finger through your soaking folds to circle once around your clit, his other arm tightening as your legs threatened to fold under you. “And I don't wanna wait anymore, do you?”

“No, Dean.” Your reply was half whisper, half moan, but he heard you well enough.

He kissed you hard before turning you toward the bed. “Lay down there while I put on a rubber and then, little girl,” his voice dropped, his lips grazing your ear as he spoke, “then I'm gonna fuck you so hard and so good...”

This time your reply was all moan as you pulled back the sheet, settling against the pillows and watching Dean's naked ass flex as he bent to dig for his wallet and the condom it presumably contained. The sight was too much for your self-control and you slid one hand between your legs, following the pattern he had traced only moments ago.

Turning back as he rolled the condom down his length, his gaze dropped to your fingers. He looked up at your flushed face and when he spoke, his voice was neutral, but his eyes were hot.

“Did I tell you to do that, little girl?”

You froze, anxiety beginning to prickle in your stomach at the realization that you'd disobeyed him, again seeking your own pleasure.

“No, Dean, I'm sorry.”

Seeing your remorse, Dean ran a soothing hand up your thigh and this time, his voice was warm and husky.

“I know you didn't mean to disobey me, little girl, but the thing is, this only works if there's consequences. So I'm gonna have to punish you, at least a little.”

You tried not to let your uneasiness show, but he saw it anyway.

“Don't worry, I'm gonna make the punishment fit the crime. Since you couldn't keep your hands off of my pussy – because it is _mine_ at the moment, isn't it, little girl?”

“Yes, Dean,” you answered meekly.

“So now I want you to play with it, work it over, get yourself right up to the very edge of coming, and then I want you to stay there until I say you can stop. Are we clear?”

“Yes, Dean.”

“And what's your color?”

It took you a moment to process the question, but then you cleared your throat to make sure you were understood. “It's green, Dean.”

“Okay, then, get started.” He grinned ruefully, one hand wrapped around the base of his cock as he watched. “The bitch of it is that this is punishing me as much as you, because now we _both_ have to wait.”

Already so stimulated, the slide of your fingers into your cunt made you cry out a little, pushing up against your own hand. Dean's voice curled into your rapture, twining heat down your spine as he spoke, deep and commanding.

“Open those legs, little girl, I want to see that pretty pussy. Bet it's as pretty as your mouth.”

Shuddering, you obeyed, fingers still stroking and caressing, hips twitching upward as you fought off the desire to thrust instead. In no time, the pleasure began to scale up and you sucked in deep breaths, desperately resisting the urge to let go, struggling to be immovable in the face of the unstoppable force that was your impending orgasm.

“I was so right, little girl.” His voice again, sexy as fuck and distracting enough that you nearly lost your tenuous control and came then and there. He went on, an unmistakable note of sincerity in his voice, “You really do have a beautiful pussy and watching you play with yourself is so fucking hot!”

Beyond words, you could only gasp and moan.

“Are you close, little girl? Do you wanna come so bad you can taste it? Tell me.”

“Fuck, yes, Dean! I want to come, I'm so close, please let me come, Dean, I want it so bad...” Your body twisted on the bed, arching and writhing with the pressure building to maddening intensity behind your clit.

“Damn, little girl, I can't wait anymore!” Dean knelt between your legs, staring down at where you continued to rub slow circles, barely holding back your climax. One large hand gripped your thigh as he guided his cock to your entrance, pausing to slide the head back and forth through your slick a few times before beginning to push into you at a deliberate, measured pace, holding his body away from yours. As his cock started to fill you, you cried out, clutching at the mattress with both hands.

Dean paused his slow forward progress, catching your eye. “I didn't tell you to stop, little girl.”

“I can't, Dean, I'm too close!” Your eyes begged him for understanding as your body undulated beneath his gaze, silently begging for him to go deeper. “You told me not to come and I want to be a good girl for you, but if I touch myself when you push your cock...” Your voice faded, the mere utterance of the word enough to push you fractionally closer to the edge and you grasped at the threads of your thought. “... um, it'll be too much, I won't be able to stop I want to be good Deanpleasedon'tmakemebebad...” You knew you were rambling, words running together, but you couldn't help it; your orgasm was so close it was almost painful and you couldn't stand the thought of failing, of disappointing him.

“Hush, sweetheart, it's ok, you _are_ a good girl, best I've seen, and I know you can do this one last thing for me. How about you just keep going until I'm all the way in, just hold on that long, and then I'll let you come all you want. Can you do that? For me?”

Pulling on reserves you didn't know you had, you slid your hand back into place, whimpering at the touch. “Yes, Dean.”

He groaned, eyes closing as he gathered himself. “Fuck, you are _so_ good...” His words trailed off as he resumed the hot, unhurried slide into your sensitive cunt. It took every bit of concentration that you possessed to resist the overwhelming compulsion to come. Your fingers slowed to the barest brushes against your clit and even that much threatened to unleash the fierce pleasure you were straining to hold back.

At long last, his hips were flush with yours, his voice gritting out words that nearly made you sob with relief. “You can stop now, little girl.”

Pulling your hand away, you let it drop to the side, still wrapped in your need to obey, to be good for Dean, unable to focus on anything except waiting for his permission to come. When he leaned forward, slowly settling his body over yours, your arms wrapped around him, pulling him close. The slight movement of his cock inside you was nearly your undoing, but somehow you held on. You heard him speak from what seemed like a great distance.

“I'm so proud of you, you did so good!” His lips brushed over yours as his hips began to move. “Alright, little girl, come for me!”

Immediately, your entire body strained and bucked up against him, back arched, hands clawing at his back, cries locked in your throat by the sheer muscle-clenching violence of your orgasm. The tip of his cock pushed to your deepest core, touching that live wire at your center that sent out sparks and flares of the most incredible, blinding pleasure at the slightest pressure.

Dean stayed still through the first devastating waves, buried deep. You wanted to beg him to stay there forever, _please don't stop_ , but the words wouldn't form into coherent sentences, crumbling down into just the two words, over and over as you writhed against him. “Stay...please...stay...please...stay...”

When he shifted back, the beginnings of disappointment filtered through you, every atom of your body begging him to understand what you needed. Before the emotion had fully formed, he pressed back in, bumping into your back wall and creating just enough friction to send bolts of ecstasy shooting through you. Gritting his teeth, he set a slow, steady rhythm, never really withdrawing at all, only rocking back and forth against you, rubbing the hard line of his cock against your responsive flesh.

The pulsing pleasure of it seemed to go on forever, wringing cries and gasps from you. Soon enough, though, you were begging him to increase his pace, to drive into you with more force. For a short while, he ignored your pleas, but gradually he began to build up momentum, dragging his cock in and out, groaning and swearing.

“So fuckin' good, little girl, you feel so good on my cock...”

Words stopped, then, both of you too caught up in the rhythm and impact of your bodies moving together to communicate in any other way. Gasps and moans and sighs filled the air instead, punctuated by the slap of skin on skin and the wet sucking sound of his cock moving in you.

The steady tempo of his thrusts began to waver, his groans falling deeper, and your body responded to his cues, answering every lunge of his hips with your own, racing to meet him at the finish. When he stiffened against you with a shout, pressing deep one more time and holding there, it flung you up and over that last, highest peak and you screamed, drowning out the word that fell from his lips; the one that might have been your name.

For a few seconds (or was it minutes?), you did nothing but try to catch your breath, hands idly smoothing up and down his back. Your brain was too fuzzy with stunned satisfaction to form a coherent thought and you were just fine with that, content to lie there forever with his weight on you. Eventually, he stirred, lifting his forehead from your collarbone to slant his lips over yours. Still half-molten from the never-ending orgasm, you fell into the kiss, tugging at his hair to bring his mouth closer.

His smile was surprisingly sweet when he pulled away and yours matched it. Too relaxed to move, you lay there drowsing as he went into the bathroom, but your mind was alight with amazement and joy and gratitude to Dean for being exactly what you needed to make this leap from fantasy to reality.

The bed bounced a little as he climbed in, bumping your shoulder lightly with his elbow.

“No goin' to sleep yet, sweetheart, you're not quite done. Here, drink this.”

With languorously heavy limbs, you pushed yourself up to sit at the top of the bed. Feeling the chill of sweat cooling on your skin, you dragged the sheet up before reaching for the glass of water Dean was holding out, smiling a little at his thoughtfulness.

“So how ya feeling? Anything you wanna talk about?” If you'd been more alert, you might have noticed how closely Dean was watching you when he asked. But you weren't, and you didn't.

The cool water was delicious and you drank thirstily before answering him. “I. Feel. Fan _tas_ tic.” It was the absolute truth. As moments from the night flashed in your memory, you shook your head in bemusement. “That was just so much better, so much _more_ than I ever imagined! I've never felt that way before, but I know I want to feel it again.”

When he slid an arm around your shoulder in a silent invitation to snuggle up, you accepted with alacrity, still greedy for skin contact. You pressed one ear to his chest, listening to the steady cadence of his heart, and wrapped one arm around his waist. You let yourself pretend, for just a second, that he was yours to keep, though somehow you knew that he wasn't. The rumble of his voice muffled the rhythmic thump under your cheek, interrupting your train of thought.

“First off, I'm glad you enjoyed yourself so much; I'd have hated to be the only one who got bowled over tonight.” You blinked in surprised pleasure. Him? Bowled over by you?! Before you could react, he pressed his lips to your hair and you felt a dizzying warmth rush over you at the gesture. Of course, he would be affectionate on top of everything else! He went on.

“I don't wanna be a buzz-kill, but I need to make sure that you're gonna be careful after this. Don't go thinking every scene is gonna go like this one did. When you start looking for a dom, you make sure you know what you want and you put them under a microscope if you have to, to make sure they're not playin' a different game.” As he spoke, the hand on your arm slowly, unconsciously tightened as if he were facing an unpleasant thought. “No, you know what? When you've got a serious candidate, you give me a call and _I'll_ put them under a microscope.”

You couldn't help it - you snickered at the idea of having an ex-one-night-stand scrutinize potential doms for you. Part of you wanted to be insulted that Dean thought you needed him to take care of you, but you were mostly amused and charmed at his protective instincts over someone he hardly knew. In fact, the more you thought about it, the more adorable and slightly absurd it seemed and the harder it was to contain your laughter.

Soon, you were shaking with it, tears gathering in your eyes as cackles of merriment rocked you. You put one hand over his on your arm, too breathless to speak, and tried to let him know with your eyes that you meant no harm. He seemed to get the message because he relaxed a little and even chuckled when your laughter ended in an unmistakable snort.

“Alright, alright, don't give yourself a hernia!” Though his voice was gruff, you could see that Dean had joined in on the joke.

Smothering the last of your mirth, you kissed him fondly. “You really are a knight in shining armor, aren't you Dean?”

His laugh was incredulous. “What, me? No fuckin' way! I'm bad to the bone, sweetheart.”

“Mm-hmm.” You tactfully disguised your skepticism. “I don't suppose a hardened character like you would consider staying the night?”

“You kidding? I was gonna ask if you minded me hanging around. Don't want you here alone in case you hit a subdrop.”

Of course, you'd read about subdrop, but were feeling so good, you had forgotten about the possibility. It didn't seem terribly likely at the moment, but you found that you were glad Dean was going to be here, just in case. You didn't bother to hide your amusement when you answered. “Bad to the bone, indeed.” Reaching to turn out the light, you snuggled back into his arms, suddenly exhausted. After a good night's sleep, though... “Maybe tomorrow morning, we can have a go at each other without all the rules.” You had already decided to call in sick to work.

“Sweetheart, you read my mind!”

His enthusiasm made you smile again. Knowing full well how lucky you had been to meet him tonight, you turned your head slightly to press a small kiss to his chest. “Good night, Dean. And thank you, for everything.”

Tightening his arms around you, he resettled himself a little, breathing in the scent of your hair with a tiny smile into the dark.

“Believe me, Y/N, it was my pleasure!” One last kiss on the top of your head. “G'night, sweetheart, sleep well.”

 

*********

 

Start the Dean POV version of this fic [here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4743953)...

**Author's Note:**

> Tell me what you think! Loved it? Hated it? I want to hear it all. :)


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